Holiday Blues
by Silly Mamma
Summary: It's Christmas and Hank tries to accomodate Rogue's rather dysfunctional family


### Not mine. Please don't sue

Before reading this story, there are a couple of things you really, really need to know. 

  * This story continues on from "A Concluding Touch of the Blues" but you need not read that story to enjoy this one. 
  * Hank's blue & furry condition is, surprisingly, communicable albeit under extremely special situations. 
  * Rogue is now blue and fuzzy, with a large white stripe in her fur. 
  * Rogue's powers are unaffected, but for the most part, the fur insulates her from contact with other people. The sole exception remains her lips and her kisses are as deadly as ever. 
  * Hank and Rogue are now married. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


## Holiday Blues 

### Chapter 1

Just from grace, Hank could tell that things would not go well. He should not have been surprised. Rogue was a firm and dedicated Southern Baptist. Kurt was studying for the Roman Catholic priesthood. And Mystique claimed to be a Druze--and maybe she was. He knew she'd worked for years with the Mossad. Hank considered himself a relaxed Presbyterian who'd rather sleep in on Sundays and Logan, the fifth of their party, professed unyielding atheism. All in all, it was not a mix that lent itself to easy understanding on liturgical matters.

Christmas was the supposed to be the time for family to be together, but that didn't make things any easier. Rogue was determined to heal the rifts in her rather unorthodox family no matter what heroic efforts it would take. Hank glanced again at his watch but they were barely through the soup course.

Logan seemed entirely impervious to the hostile looks and stares that flew back and forth across the table, fully enjoying his food and helping himself to seconds, thirds and fourths as the mood struck him. Hank wished he could approach this meal with the same carefree attitude, but every time his attention drifted, a sharp bang to his shins brought him back to the present. A gentleman, at least according to Rogue, did not daydream while hosting a meal.

For the most part, the school was empty tonight. Many students and faculty had gone home to visit family. A large contingent had left for the Summers clan reunion up in the Catskills. Most of the others were volunteering at a homeless shelter and the few that remained kept to their rooms. This lent the family an unusual solitude in their small private parlor, a solitude which Hank would gladly have traded for any sort of interruption.

"More salad, mother?" asked Rogue.

"No, thank you."

"Kurt?"

"No, I've had enough, danke."

"Hank?"

"I think I'll pass for now."

"And Logan?"

Naturally, Logan had to have more and the meal went on and on.

It wouldn't have been so bad if they had had anything to talk about, but an icy silence had gripped the table broken only by the occasional questions about food, passing the salt and so forth. Hank prayed for the meal to end soon.

In the end, it was the gate buzzer that changed things. As one of the few staff on site, Hank excused himself to answer it.

"Good Evening," he said into the intercom. "May I help you?"

There was no answer except for a small catlike sound on the other end. Curiously, he let himself out of the front door and walked to the gate as the wind roughly tossed his fur.

A small basket lay at the foot of the gate. Hank began to curse even as he recognized what the basket must contain. And then he ran.

  
  
"Who was it?" asked Rogue.

Hank ignored her as he carefully placed the basket on the table and looked in the blankets. Logan stood up and joined him.

"Can you get a scent?" Hank said.

"Yeah. I think so. Give me a blanket."

"All right." 

"Back later." And then Logan was gone.

"What is going on?" asked Rogue. "Is that...? Could that be...?"

"The umbilicus and placenta are still attached, I see. Would you please excuse me," Hank said. "I'm going to take him down to the medbay and put him under the warmers. Kurt, would you mind terribly running out and buying some forumula and diapers and such?"

"But, of course. I'll be back shortly."

Surprisingly, Mystique stood up. "I'll go with you," she said.

"But...yes. Okay."

Hank had not stayed to listen. Rogue looked at the large untouched turkey before following him downstairs.

  
  
They did not speak on the way to the store, nor when they arrived nor when they walked to the baby aisle. With his image projector activated and Mystique in the form of a housewife, they attracted no notice. They said nothing as Kurt picked out packets of diapers, cans of formula and an assortment of bottles.

Mystique just watched him with a calculating look and Kurt found himself more and more disturbed by this. Why had she come? Why had she asked to come?

When he'd decided he could not take the silence any more, he asked her right out.

"Let's just say," she answered, "that I'm something of an expert in abandoned children."

He could not think of a way to reply to that.

  
  
"Can I hold him?" she asked.

"As long as you sit under the heat lamps, I don't see why not."

"Hank, do you think that he might be the... I mean God works in mysterious ways, doesn't he? And it's Christmas and..."

Hank shook his head. "Logan will find the mother soon. I'm sure she's just going through post partum depression. She'll come round. She's sure to."

"But we've been trying for so long...and look at him..."

The baby was folded up in the classic manner of the newborn, still more used to the womb than the world. His eyes were tightly shut and a small fringe of light blue hair trimmed his face and arms.

"That's lanugo," Hank explained. "Nearly every newborn has it. It will fall out in a few weeks."

"But, it's blue, Hank. It's blue."

He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "He's not ours, darling. There's a scared and confused mother out there and we're going to find her." He felt her shoulders begin to move with silent sobs.

Hank quietly left her there holding the baby as he walked to the administrative office. Charles had long since obtained a foster care license to allow them to admit the many runaways that showed up at their door. As far as he was aware, the license did not specify age. They should be able to care for the baby until the mother was found. He unlocked the door, let himself in, found the proper documentation and made the necessary calls to Child Protective Services.


End file.
